e waters out. * * * I am now going to breakfast before the
Narcissus of Claude. How enchanting and lovely it is! far, very far,
surpassing any other landscape I ever beheld. Write to me. Kiss and
love my darlings. I hope my stay will not exceed this week."

In one of his letters from Cole-Orton to his wife, Constables says:--

"Sir George rises at seven, walks in the garden before breakfast, and
rides out about two--fair or foul. We have had breakfast at half-past
eight; but to-day we began at the winter hour--nine. We do not quit
the breakfast-table directly, but chat a little about the pictures in
the room. We then go to the painting-room, and Sir George most
manfully sets to work, and I by his side. At two, the horses are
brought to the door. I have had an opportunity of seeing the ruins of
Ashby, the mountain stream and rocks (such Everdingens!) at
Grace-Dieu, and an old convent there--Lord Ferrers'--a grand but
melancholy spot. At dinner we do not sit long; Lady Beaumont reads
the newspaper (the _Herald_) to us; and then to the drawing-room to
tea; and after that comes a great treat. I am furnished with some
portfolios, full of beautiful drawings or prints, and Sir George
reads a play in a manner the most delightful. On Saturday evening it
was, 'As You Like It;' and I never heard the 'seven ages' so
admirably read before. Last evening, Sunday, he read a sermon, and a
good deal of Wordsworth's 'Excursion.' Some of the landscape
descriptions in it are very beautiful. About nine, the servant comes
in with a little fruit and a decanter of water; and at eleven we go
to bed. I always find a fire in my room, and make out about an hour
longer, as I have every thing there--writing-desk, &c.--and I grudge
a moment's unnecessary sleep in this place. You would laugh to see my
bed-room, I have dragged so many things into it--books, portfolios,
prints, canvasses, pictures, &c."

"_November 9._--How glad I was, my dear love, to receive your last
kind letter, giving a good account of yourself and our dear babies. *
* * Nothing shall, I hope, prevent my seeing you this week; indeed I
am quite nervous about my absence, and shall soon begin to feel
alarmed about the Exhibition. * * * I do not wonder at your being
jealous of Claude. If any thing could come between our love